Don't Trust a Perfect Person
by KeivRus
Summary: "Don't trust a perfect person." The randomness of her statement was what finally made him turn to her. Her lips delicately curved upwards as though silently and personally pleased that she had caught his attention. Implied MitsuruxShinjiro


"Don't trust a perfect person."

The randomness of her statement was what finally made him turn to her. Her lips delicately curved upwards as though silently and personally pleased that she had caught his attention.

"I believe that's what you told Akihiko after he informed you about our first encounter," She looked up from her book—which she was flipping through so quickly he doubted she was reading it at all—and smiled again to subtly prompt an answer from him. She kept her gaze deliberately on his and to emphasize her attention was wholeheartedly his, her hands carefully shut her book but kept a finger to mark her page. Just from that seemingly nondescript action, she revealed that she expected this to be a short conversation—one where she would get the answer she sought and promptly return to the last sentence she left off of. It wasn't wrong of her to assume. Most conversations with Shinjiro ended with a monosyllabic response or an annoyed grunt. He was a man of very little words, and yet she felt inclined to bring up the past.

"Does he report everything to you?" He feigned annoyance despite the fact that he knew well enough how much Akihiko depended on her (although the idiot would never admit it.) What he didn't know was why she kept this information and even more so, why she chose to ask about it so many years later.

"Then you don't deny it," Her shoulders leaned just an inch closer as her interest piqued. Shinjiro visibly frowned, realizing too late that he was ensnared by her trap. He knew the moment her finger subconsciously slid out from the page she left off of that this was now a committed conversation.

"I don't remember what I said, alright?" He crossed his leg, hands rummaging deeper into his pockets as though he was trying to find an answer in it. What confused him the most was what kept him rooted in his seat. It would have been just as easy to get up and leave with a vague excuse and a succinct declaration of whether or not he would be participating during the Dark Hour. She wasn't the type to hinder him from going about his way. It was mainly because she knew it simply wasn't her place. She didn't know where she stood with him. The way she distinctively chose to interact with him was far different from how she treated Akihiko. Where she stood with Shinjiro was like walking on the shore in the middle of the night. It was a constant mystery if she was safe against gently beating waves or one wrong step into plunging into roaring currents.

She kept her interactions with Shinjiro compartmentalized. There were no exact words to describe their current relationship. In some ways, they were complete strangers with an entirely different weight burrowing down on their shoulders. But sometimes they would unknowingly revert back to a time of different circumstances—a more innocent time. The only thing binding them together—and to his seat now—was her inexplicable level of trust in him even though she was painfully aware of the blood on his hands. Then again, Shinjiro knew she wasn't as clean as she seemed either.

"I see," She replied reproachfully. Within a half of a second they were back to the present and suddenly they seemed miles apart. Her hands caressed the spine of her book in preparation for opening it again as a silent declaration of this conversation being tucked away as another vague memory.

Liked a knee jerk reaction, he quickly muttered with a harrowed brow, "Are you admitting I was right?" She blinked once causing her lashes to cascade onto her cheekbones.

Her lips parted with an abortive attempt at a laugh. Instead, she opted to smile briefly as a clear indication she was enjoying their odd conversation. "Then I would also be admitting I was what you called perfect, oui?" He looked at her nondescriptly for a while. Her hair was perfectly curled and gathered to rest on her shoulder and her nails were manicured and neatly positioned to rest on her knee like a porcelain doll. From the outside she looked pristine and crisp to the touch, but just how spotless she presented herself only made it all the more clear how hard she was trying for her father. But he didn't know that back then. He was rash and overprotective—then again, he still was—and she was an easy target to be labeled. Her difference in status made it easy to assume she was manipulative and untrustworthy when she seduced Akihiko's attention with an offer of power.

She cleared her throat and then dropped her gaze to briefly meet the carpeted floor. That only led him to realize how long he looked at her without saying a word. He quickly averted his gaze and uncomfortably cleared his throat thinking that would somehow mediate how quickly the room got to be so warm.


End file.
